Smells Like Teen Spirit
by ghost roses
Summary: Tate Langdon is an angsty teen who believes in nothing but hatred, as that's whats been given. However, when the new girl Violet Harmon moves in next to him, will she be able to give him light? How did he not notice her before? AU set in 1994, Tate has not committed any crimes.


Violet Harmon was a simple girl, living a simple life. That is, until her 'perfect' ife transfused into a vast nightmare.

She stood, as always in a passive-aggresive stance in front of her Los Angeles old-Victorian home. Violet liked the look of it, if we were being honest, but other than that the whole purpose of the move from Boston was bullshit.

Ben Harmon, her father, cheated. it was as plain and as singular as that. No reason to go in depth unless we're talking about the fact that she was almost Violet's age. And not many things should, but that repulsed her.

In the present, back out from her head, Violet walked in slowly through the wide-opened front door. Dropping various boxes as she went, as well as admiring the everything-but-modern paintings scattered around the living room. _The previous owners must have been ancient. _She thought.

Viven, her mom, who was on good terms with Violet, simply told her to finish unpacking. Bickering with her Dad over how she found many calls from Hayden, the mystery girl who screwed her husband, on his phone.

_Holy shit. _Violet exclaimed in her head, halting in front of her room's doorway, which happened to be upstairs. A rare bright smile painted her face. The room was completely blank, other than a few different items sought out for decoration, it was all hers to remodel. Walls grey and bed new, she began unpacking.

It was perfect. Her room was so perfect. The image of gore and the image of grunge captured perfectly in her mind made its way onto the blank canvas of a room, and now it felt specifically made for her.

The walls were black, and the room was perfectly made out to her liking. Different skull vases were placed around, and bright lavender and poppy flowers scattered across the room. Her bed had purple covers, and fluffy white pillows in contrast to the darkness.

Violet wasnt depressed-she just looked good in dark colors. a vanity with a small candle lit in front of it stood at the side of her doorway, painting the mirror into something more sinister than what it was.

After admiring her handiwork, it was practically the end of the afternoon as evening sung its way into her chorus.

Sun prepared to set, Violet decided to skip the festivities, and move on to the lawn. Maybe that would give her something to do instead of talk to her broken family for a change.

Walking out in her black combat boots, barely feeling any heat, although she was wearing a black cardigan in summer over a seemingly long red dress, topped with a raven black porkpie hat as the finisher, she sat on her porch steps.

There was her picket fence neighborhod. God forbid any house was different, which was what made her hate her new place. Nobody was welcoming, even if they seemed like it. Not to mention her new school, which would be brought upon her the next day, was probably the same. _If not worse in every other way_ possible. She mused.

Tate Langdon was a bored boy, and hated everything. Or so that's how it seemed.

He hated his school, he hated his cocksucker of a mom, he hated everything about anything that there is to hate.

And even so, he managed to keep it all locked in that small box underneath his bed. Where bullets and possible murder weapons resided. In waiting, for the right moment. _Not yet. _His mind pounded, making way through all of the voices colliding into his skull.

_This house is so full of shit_, he thought as he made his way into the attic to play with his disfigured brother, tomorrow was another day at his highschool. Westfield, and if it didn't sound preppy to him from the name, it did by its own students and staff.

"It'd be a revelation if anything new were to every happen there for a change, soething bullshit or something meaningful. I don't even care anymore Bo." Tate said quietly to his brother as he bounced the red ball back and forth between them.

Bo just gave a small whimper of agreement or sorrow, he couldn't tell which anymore since his mother only left him to conversate with a brick wall, chained to the void that was his attic. However, that was another story saved only for the ones he would ever care about more than he thought he would.

He looked down at his worn-out converse and ripped jeans, the image of less-than-perfect in every way. Tate got to thinking about the next day, and the next day, and what if anything in this town was ever different.

_Maybe something new would happen, maybe not, whatever it is. It won't change a thing about this cruel, dirty, world we live in. _He thought ot himself this time, allowing his mind to be the one in charge for once and conjure up something beautiful. Even if for a minute, he started to hate it.

**A/N: Sorry this is so short! If you wanna see more feel free to review and/or critique my work! I will most likely be continuing this, but hopefully my retelling of the plot that has probably been commonly imagined is up to par! Thank you.**

**\- GR :^)**


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